


Physical Examination of a Submissive

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Play, Dominant Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dominant Padmé Amidala, F/M, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Roleplay, Multi, Playing Doctor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Submissive Anakin Skywalker, obianidala, physical exam, rectal temperature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Anakin's partners want to make sure he's nice and healthy.





	Physical Examination of a Submissive

Anakin shifted nervously in the chair. He sat stiffly, hands in his lap, confused by the emotions swirling in his stomach.

Anakin had never liked going to the doctor. It didn’t matter if it was civilian medics or Jedi Healers, it always made his heart race to be looked at and prodded, and he hated the idea that the practitioner could measure the physical signs of his discomfort.

Obi-Wan sat beside him, leaning back confidently in his chair, one leg crossed with his ankle resting on his knee.

They’d discussed it at length beforehand. It was Padmé’s idea, and Obi-Wan had been enthusiastic. Anakin had been…intrigued, but nervous.

Anakin shifted again, still from nervousness but also from a certain pressure in his lower abdomen. Padmé had left a message on his comm with detailed instructions the previous night, one of which was to refrain from using the refresher for a few hours prior. Obi-Wan had received a similar message, asking him to enforce these directions with his sub, which was humiliating in a way that Anakin associated with being over Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Mr. Kenobi? We’re ready for Anakin now,” said Padmé as she beckoned to them. Obi-Wan walked ahead and Anakin followed into the makeshift exam room. A cotton gown lay folded on the paper-covered table, complete with stirrups. Anakin felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought about how it would feel to be placed in them, spread wide for Padmé—Dr. Amidala, that was—to look at and touch whatever she wanted, while Obi-Wan looked on.

“We have him down for a complete submissive physical and STI testing. Mr. Kenobi, please have him undress and put on a gown, ties in the back, and open the door when you’re finished.”

Dr. Amidala shut them in the exam room. Obi-Wan turned Anakin to face him.

“Anakin, what color?”

“Green,” he said confidently. Obi-Wan nodded. He took the hem of Anakin’s shirt and pulled it off over his head, and Anakin decided it was actually a bit chillier in the room than he originally thought. He stood obediently as Obi-Wan took his trousers down, stepping out of the leg holes when prompted to.

He wondered for a moment if Obi-Wan was going to let him keep his underwear temporarily, but soon he felt his Dom’s gentle fingers slip into the waistband. He seemed to linger for a moment before committing to the action and sliding them down past Anakin’s crotch. He shivered.

The gown was from Padmé’s personal stash of medical toys, and it fit perfectly. Somehow it didn’t stop Anakin from feeling naked as Obi-Wan directed him to take a seat on the table, and opened the door so that Dr. Amidala could return.

“Hello, Anakin,” she said as she entered the room. “I’m going to be giving you your checkup today. Have you ever seen a doctor who specializes in submissives before?”

“No,” said Anakin sheepishly.

“That’s alright. We’ll just have to do a thorough exam, make sure everything is in good working order. Shall I ask you a few questions before we get started?”

All Anakin can do is nod.

“Is Mr. Kenobi here your only partner?”

“No. There’s one other.”

“And all three of you are exclusive to one another?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a safeword, or use a traffic light system?”

“Both.”

“Good.” Dr. Amidala scribbled something down on her notepad, then set it down and opened a drawer of instruments. “I’m going to get started by having a listen to your heart, Anakin.”

Anakin felt his heartbeat quicken involuntarily, betraying his unease. He loved and hated the feeling that his body was not under his control. The doctor put the buds of a real, old-fashioned stethoscope in her ears—none of that electronic medisensor crap they stocked in the medbays. He flinched when she put the cold resonator against his chest.

“What color, Anakin?” Padmé whispered.

“Green,” he assured her. She looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded.

Dr. Amidala listened to his heartbeat first over the gown, then undid the first set of ties to check his lungs, first the back, then the front. “One more deep breath,” she said, before putting the stethoscope down. “Everything sounds normal.”

Obi-Wan patted his shoulder in a sort-of reassuring way. Dr. Amidala selected an otoscope next from the tray of tools.

“Open your mouth for me,” she instructed, and shined the light at the back of his throat. She then placed a plastic cover over the tip and shined it in each of his ears. It made the hair on the back of Anakin’s neck stand up in an unexpected way.

“Good,” the doctor says. “Now, I need you to lie down on your back with your head here,” she tapped the paper-covered mattress.

The paper crinkled noisily as he obeyed. Dr. Amidala lifted his gown up to his armpits

“Let me know if you feel any discomfort,” she instructed. She palpated the area around his breasts, paying special attention to his nipples, then worked her way down to a thorough abdominal exam. When she pressed on his bladder, Anakin was urgently reminded that he hadn’t been permitted to relieve himself for most of the day.

“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing. Um, I just really have to…use the fresher.”

“Ah, yes. We’ll see to that in a few minutes.”

Dr. Amidala continued her inspection, feeling around his lower abdomen and taking the pulse in his femoral arteries, fingers brushing tantalizingly close to the sensitive insides of his thighs. Finally, her hands cupped his balls, checking carefully for any abnormalities.

“Roll onto your stomach now, please,” she said. “Mr. Kenobi, I’d like you to help me take his temperature.”

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat as her words sunk in. He moved slowly, hyperaware of the crinkling of the tissue paper as he positioned himself as she asked. His fingers slipped down to straighten the gown, which had gotten bunched up, but he suspected it wouldn’t matter for long as Dr. Amidala put on a latex glove.

“Undo the back of the gown and spread his cheeks for me, please. Don’t let him squirm too much.”

Anakin knew her words were an invitation for him to squirm a little, and he didn’t have to fake his discomfort. He felt Obi-Wan’s fingers removing the thin layer of cotton that was the only meager protection between the cold air of the room and his vulnerable backside.

He was distracted from the humiliation of his bottom being bared by the sight of a long glass rod glistening in the doctor’s hand.

“Do your Doms ever take your rectal temperature at home, Anakin?” she asked innocently.

Anakin couldn’t answer. His face was burning.

“Be polite to the doctor,” Obi-Wan chastised him. “She asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Anakin admitted.

“Then you already know it won’t hurt. It just might feel a little cold.”

He heard the pop of a plastic cap and the squishy sound of lube. He suspected that Padmé had refrigerated the bottle, as she was fond of doing.

Obi-Wan’s fingers parted his cheeks, exposing his tender, twitching hole. With both of them behind him, he couldn’t see what was going on. He felt the brush of a gloved finger against his perineum, and then nothing. They were teasing him. Then the finger returned, startlingly cold and slick. The doctor lubricated a neat circle around his anus, then spiraled inward, achingly slow. The finger bobbed inside, just to the first knuckle, then out again, quickly replaced by the invasive poke of the thin rod. He squirmed and clenched around it, wanting the uncomfortable sensation gone but at the same time wanting more, wanting Obi-Wan, wanting Padmé’s fingers to return and fill him, fuck him—

“Stay still,” Obi-Wan’s voice was a sharp warning. Dr. Amidala slid the thermometer halfway out, as if to check it’s progress, then drove it straight back home with a cruel little twist. Anakin was panting now, using every iota of self-control not to rub himself against the crinkly paper. He could feel a damp spot growing on the front of his gown. It was hidden by the rest of him—for now at least.

With a mix of relief and regret, he felt the thermometer sliding out of him. Dr. Amidala wiped it off with a tissue to read it.

“Temperature is normal,” Dr. Amidala announced. “Very good.” She turned to put it back on the tray.

“There’s one more part of the physical exam, Anakin, before we finish up by collecting some samples for testing,” the doctor explained. “I’m going to check your bottom with my finger.”

Anakin felt himself involuntarily clench with embarrassment.

“Ah-ah,” Dr. Amidala chirped. “You need to relax.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a voice that was soft while still conveying the threat underneath. “The doctor needs to make sure you’re nice and healthy, so you need to cooperate.”

She added more lube to her gloved finger. “Now bear down for me.”

There was a moment’s pause before Obi-Wan spread him wide again, and the doctor’s finger teased against his entrance. He felt himself flinch from the probing touch. “Relax,” they both reminded him.

The doctor’s finger breached his poor hole slowly but firmly, heedless of his squirming. She curled her finger a little, coaxing him to calm down, until he felt his muscles stop contracting around her.

“Much better,” said the doctor.

“Good boy,” whispered Obi-Wan.

He felt the gloved finger brush against his prostate and stifled a gasp. It was too much. They’d wound him up too far for him to withstand this kind of direct stimulation for any length of time. But no—not yet!

Before Anakin could decide whether to give in, Dr. Amidala’s finger retreated. Anakin barely refrained from expressing his disappointment.

“Now,” Dr. Amidala pulled the gown back so it covered right up to his belly button, and stepped back. “We are going to need a urine specimen from you. If you followed my pre-exam instructions, you should be ready to provide one.”

Anakin swallowed hard. Obi-Wan took a step forward with an eyebrow raised at him.

“Green,” said Anakin hastily, not wanting them to break character. He had been distracted from the urge to go, but now that he was reminded, it was in fact rather pressing. “Yeah, um, I think I can do it now.”

The doctor handed him a sterile plastic cup. He glanced around, but there was no bathroom attached to the exam area. He felt both of their eyes on him as he took hold of his cock.

He felt the pressure, but he couldn’t seem to relax his muscles. Anakin heaved a noiseless sigh.

He heard a little trickle of urine hit the bottom of the cup, but he glanced down and it dribbled to a halt.

“We need a sample of at least 100mL for testing,” Dr. Amidala said. “You need to fill it to the line if you can.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward and took the cup from his hand. Anakin averted his gaze and tried again to relax. To let go. He felt Dr. Amidala’s hand on his abdomen again, pressing deep and firm over his bladder.

Finally, he felt the heat of another stream starting. “Good boy,” Obi-Wan murmured. When he had filled the cup, Obi-Wan was ready with a larger beaker so he could finish emptying his bladder.

There was something humiliating about watching the doctor print his name on the specimen and seal it. Almost like it was something he had _done_ rather than something that was done _to_ him that made it worse. He had no secrets, and no control over his body in this room, he was completely exposed to both of them.

Which reminded him of the part that had made him the most nervous at the outset.

“Almost done, Anakin,” Dr. Amidala assured him, putting on another set of gloves. “Get back up on the table now, please, and put your feet up here.”

Hyperaware of the way his dick was poking up inside the gown, Anakin obeyed. He laid his head back on the tissue paper and allowed Obi-Wan to put his heels into the stirrups and folding his gown up to his belly button so that everything was on display. Slowly, Dr. Amidala spread them apart, maximizing her access to his most vulnerable areas.

She took his rapidly hardening cock into her gloved hand first, and showed him a long cotton swab. “I’m going to take a sample from inside your urethra now.”

It burned at first, and the lubricated cotton bud felt unpleasantly rough, but when she let go his cock was fully hard against his chest.

“I need you to scoot down a little more.”

Anakin shuffled himself until his bottom was almost hanging off the end of the table.

“Good. I’ll be taking a rectal swab next, but first,” she paused. “Are you familiar with this?”

The object in her hand was an anal speculum. “Yes,” Anakin breathed. He watched as if mesmerized as she coated the object in a generous amount of lube.

“It will open you up nice and wide so I can see inside.”

Anakin closed his eyes as he felt Padmé’s finger nudging at his entrance again. He ached for some kind of friction against his cock, his back arched with anticipation. A second finger joined the first, wiggling around in a way that made him want to scream. His face was burning. What a pathetic little sub, melting down at a little checkup. Obi-Wan was watching every detail of his reaction, was watching him fall to pieces as the doctor’s fingers scissored in his bottom.

He was shocked when the fingers were replaced with unyielding metal. Dr. Amidala was slow and careful, but Anakin still felt barely able to accommodate the intrusion. She murmured reassurances to him as she worked it in, while Obi-Wan kept a supportive hand on his thigh. Anakin gulped when he suddenly remembered that this was the speculum’s narrowest setting—that the entire idea was predicated on it stretching further.

Anakin’s hands scrabbled at nothing as a low moan escaped him. The doctor gave the speculum half a turn, opening it up just a little wider. It burned so good. He whined in embarrassment when he imagined both of them looking inside his private hole, and tried to close his legs only for the metal stirrups and Obi-Wan’s tightening grip to stop him. He was getting too fucking close again, he was about to lose control. He felt a second cotton swab rubbing against his rectal wall. The doctor withdrew it and smeared the sample across a little white card, which she placed in a sealed specimen container like the others.

Was it over now? They’d made their way through the list of exams and tests. But Dr. Amidala gave the speculum another turn, and Anakin’s anus clamped down painfully around it, resisting the stretch but loving the pain. The doctor knelt between his knees, he could feel her breath against his thighs. Her fingers slipped inside again, finding no resistance this time. One wrong move, and Anakin was going to spill himself into his gown. The doctor rolled his prostate between her two fingers and—

“Yellow, YELLOW,” Anakin gasped.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan and Padmé said in unison.

“I’m going to come,” he whimpered.

“You can come, baby boy,” Obi-Wan reassured him, running a hand through his hair. “Is it okay for Padmé to keep going?”

Anakin nodded. “Please,”

Padmé went back to stimulating him while Obi-Wan stroked one hand gently up his cock, and Anakin lost himself in indescribable pleasure.

Padmé retracted the speculum and slid it out of him, finally allowing the hunger to show on her face. She gave his bottom a playful pat.

“You were a very good boy, Anakin, and I’m giving you a clean bill of health,” Padmé smiled. “Mr. Kenobi, we’ll have his test results in a couple of days, but I recommend you continue to schedule him for well-visits every few months.”

“That sounds like the responsible thing to do,” Obi-Wan agreed, kissing her, and then Anakin.

 


End file.
